


Sweeter Than Sugar

by exyking



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Auguste is an exhibitionist, Cockwarming, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Incest, Laurent is his pet, M/M, Public Sex, Sibling Incest, inappropriate activity in the council chambers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 15:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/pseuds/exyking
Summary: The council is gathered around the long table in the lavishly decorated hall. They rise when their king enters, and bow. They stare at Laurent. They are ugly, Laurent thinks, and old. They are distasteful, their want of him blatant and treasonous.Laurent belongs to his brother.





	Sweeter Than Sugar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calismash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calismash/gifts).



> I'm meant to be working on a lot of stuff right now, but instead I finished this. To be fair, it's been sitting half done in my gdocs since, like, june :')
> 
> I HOPE U LIKE IT LAUGGY. I took a few liberties, but lauguste cockwarming is a fun sandbox to play in xx

Auguste wakes Laurent that morning with a gentle kiss and a sharp tug of his hair, smiling warmly when Laurent stirs into wakefulness and smiles up at his older brother. His king. He is still wet and open from the night before, and Auguste presses two fingers inside him, smooth to the hilt in one single thrust. Laurent gasps breathlessy, rutting forward into his brother wantonly, his morning erection gliding along Auguste’s thigh. Auguste presses a kiss to his brow. 

Laurent is hopeful that Auguste will fuck him, as is his wont to do on occasion, when Laurent is still open and wet and dripping his come from the previous night. Auguste likes to fuck straight into him, likes to do away with necessary foreplay like stretching and slicking his cock. He likes to pretend that Laurent is wet and ready for him always, like a woman might be.

Auguste plays with his hole for a while. He scissors his fingers and thrust them in and out, slow and precise and exactly what Laurent needs. Laurent closes his eyes and lets his lips part around soft sounds, gentle whines and greedy moans. He knows his brother likes to hear him.

It is perhaps not a surprise, but a disappointment all the same, when Auguste’s fingers stop their steady movements inside him. He buries them deep, resting heavily against the swollen nub of Laurent’s pleasure spot, and he presses a sweet, languid kiss to Laurent’s lips, licking into his brother’s slack mouth and biting down on his tender bottom lip. It is clear that he has had enough, is satisfied with winding Laurent up and leaving him wanting, though Laurent is still grateful. It is more than Auguste usually allows. Perhaps that should have been Laurent’s first warning.

Laurent is allowed to stay in bed as breakfast is brought to him. Warm breads with sweet spreads and delicately sliced fruits arranged like flowers are laid out on a tray in his lap, brought in by servants who know better than to comment on the king’s brother resting naked in the king’s bed. 

Auguste reads his morning papers as his servants dress him, distractedly eating an apple as he does. He departs, briefly, slipping into the antechamber and out of sight. Laurent is enjoying the slices of orange too much to pay it full attention. His brother returns a short while later, holding in his hands two goblets. He brings one to Laurent, and already Laurent can smell the scent of freshly pressed juice from inside. He accepts it with generous thanks, tilting his head to let his brother press a kiss to his brow, before he brings the cup to his lips. He has always loved the fruit drink, and is almost surprised when his first sip yields a rare sweetness, likely from the sugar cane, an indulgence that his brother, anxious to keep his form demure and lithe, rarely affords him.

Perhaps he should have noticed that it tasted a touch too sweet. He should know by now his brother never does anything without a dozen motives. 

By the time his brother pulls him from bed and brings him to stand before his mirror, the pleasure drug Auguste had slipped into his drink is already beginning to take effect. In a delightfully warm haze, Laurent enjoys his brother dressing him in soft, gauzy silks and sparkling, jewel studded chains. He hardly notices it is far from his usual fare, even since the beginning of his tenure as Auguste’s official pet. He nuzzles his brother’s neck when Auguste reaches around him to clasp a golden collar around his neck. He whines sweetly when Auguste runs gentle, teasing fingers down his silk clad sides.

“Gorgeous,” Auguste whispers against his cheek, pressing a lingering kiss there. “My beautiful little slut.”

Laurent loves it when Auguste calls him that.

He is led from their shared chambers by Auguste’s hand. He doesn’t question where they are going, only follows his brother, delighting in the warm, strong fingers that hold his. He doesn’t recognise the door to the council chambers when they approach it. He doesn’t notice the guards staring at him with latent desire as they pass.

The council is gathered around the long table in the lavishly decorated hall. They rise when their king enters, and bow. They stare at Laurent. They are ugly, Laurent thinks, and old. They are distasteful, their want of him blatant and treasonous. Laurent belongs to his brother. He presses into Auguste’s side, his brother’s body hard and warm and so large beside him, so strong, so safe, an entire army in the body of one man. The thought makes him giggle. 

Auguste tugs his hair sharply, silencing him. “My lords,” he says to the room at large. “Please be seated.”

Auguste makes his way to his throne at the head of the table, Laurent tucked neatly into his side all the while. A servant hurries forward to pull the chair out for Auguste to sit. 

For a moment, Laurent doesn’t know what to do. There is no chair for him, and not enough room on Auguste’s seat even if he were allowed to sit directly on the throne. In a muddled haze he looks to the floor, half expecting to see a pet’s cushion resting at Auguste’s feet, a place for him to curl up like some pets at the court do for their masters, and, addled as he is by the drug, Laurent forgets to feel offended by that thought. But, there is no cushion for him.

Auguste sits down, and he does not pull his chair in. He looks to Laurent, as though he expects him to do something. Laurent can feel all the eyes in the room on him. 

“Laurent?” 

He meets his brother’s eyes, and Auguste gestures downwards. It takes Laurent a long moment to realise he is gesturing to his lap. It takes Laurent even longer to realise that Auguste’s fingers are moving at the laces of his trousers, undoing them, and drawing his half-hard cock from within. The councillors cannot see this, over the lip of the table. The possessive part of Laurent is glad.

He realises, quite suddenly, what Auguste wants him to do, what Auguste is  _ commanding  _ him to do. A thrill runs through Laurent, making him shiver, making his belly coil with want. To be commanded to service his brother, his king, in the most formal and private of situations, to hold his cock inside his body, to keep it safe and warm, an obedient pet for anyone to see; it is a scandalous pleasure, skirting the line of taboo, obscene enough that Laurent is sure will spread around the court like wildfire, will be gossiped about for years. The king’s brother, his pet, warming his cock in council. How  _ jealous  _ they will all be.

It does not occur to Laurent to object.

He gathers the long, sheer silks that hang about his waist, and bunches them up, perhaps a little unsubtle, but that is the effect of the chalis. He lets Auguste take his hips, guiding him as he sits back onto his lap, bracing himself for what he knows is coming. It takes Auguste guiding his half-hard cock inside Laurent’s slack, greedy entrance to get it in, but when Laurent feels the head slide inside him he sinks down, slick enough that the slide is easy, and so desperate he can scarcely stand it.

His brother’s cock slides against his pleasure spot as Laurent sinks down, and it makes Laurent’s spine arch, draws a needy little sound from his open lips. When he is fully seated, he notices for the first time his own cock is hard and throbbing, leaking pearly white precome onto the expensive silk skirt that is so sheer he can see his cock clearly through it when he looks down at his lap. He hadn’t noticed that before.

Auguste tugs Laurent back towards himself, wrapping an arm around his chest and keeping him anchored against his chest. The sudden movement makes Laurent tighten around Auguste’s cock, enticing a sweet sound from his lips. He half expects his brother to reprimand him for making such noises in public, but Auguse ignores him.

Auguste hooks one arm under Laurent’s knee, and pulls it up and to the side, letting it drape over the arm of the chair, keeping it there with one hand pressed to his knee. The other leg he nudges aside, keeping it hooked over his thigh, spreading Laurent’s legs wide and trapping them there. The stretch makes Laurent’s hole tighten again, making him clench hard around Auguste. Laurent makes a pleased sound when he feels Auguste’s cock harden further inside him, stretching him open just that little bit wider.

Distantly, Laurent is aware that the councillors sitting close enough can see how widely spread he is over his brother’s lap, and how hard he is. If they look close enough, he is sure they would be able to see Auguste’s cock stretching him wide; his massive, thick, long cock splitting his brother’s hole open, a part of Auguste buried deep inside, where it belongs.

Laurent’s head lolls on Auguste’s shoulder at the thought. His nose nuzzles into the warm, masculine scent at Auguste’s throat, and he sighs contentedly. Auguste’s hand squeezes Laurent’s knee, his thumb stroking a gentle line across Laurent’s sensitive skin. He turns his attention to the council.

Laurent hears voices around him, going over him like he isn’t even there, but he cannot understand a word of what is said. He recognises the sound of Auguste’s voice, its deep rumble and confident authority, he hears it echo soothingly in his ears. He focuses on that, letting it wash over him like the gentle push and pull of the tide, and he lets his eyes close. 

Laurent doesn’t know how long he stays like that. It is hard to measure time like this. He thinks it must have been hours, because his persistent erection has long since started to ache, never once allowed to flag with the pleasure drug still coursing through his veins. He cannot stop himself from squirming, always jolting and whining in unrepressed pleasure when Auguste’s cock pushes against that sensitive spot inside him. Auguste largely ignores his efforts, though his grip occasionally tightens on Laurent’s knee when he moves too much.

The more Laurent squirms the worse it gets; his skin crawls with heat, his breaths become laboured and shallow. His head spins, eyes losing focus. His fists clench and unclench, desperately seeking something to hold on to.

Auguste doesn’t see his struggle or, if he does, he pays it no mind. He lets Laurent whine and wriggle, every moment, every movement, making everything so much worse, making everything feel that much more intense. Laurent can’t stand it, it is unbearable, he  _ needs more.  _ He needs Auguste to fuck him, needs his brother to let him ride his cock, needs to move up and down and let that heat be fucked out of him. He needs pleasure, he needs release. He thinks he will die if he can’t have it.

He begins to gyrate his hips, mewling like a kitten when Auguste’s cock presses his spot on every turn. He buries his face deeper into his brother’s neck, his arm treacherously clasping a hold of Auguste’s jacket, using it as leverage to get the slightest bit of height. As soon as he does, Auguste’s hand clamps down hard on his own, stilling him.

Laurent is almost afraid to look up into Auguste’s eyes, pleasure clouding his judgement, making him feel as though he has betrayed his brother in this way. He wasn’t  _ good  _ enough to be still and obedient as a pet should be, he couldn’t just sit still and quiet as his brother wanted.  _ It’s just so hard _ , Laurent wants to say,  _ it just feels so good _ . 

Auguste doesn’t let him get away with it. There is a lull in the conversation, distant in Laurent’s ears, as Auguste’s finger crooks under his chin and turns his head.

Laurent can see the councillor’s watching him from the corner of his eye as he is forced to meet his brother’s gaze. He can see their ruddy cheeks, their blatant hunger, can see the way they lick their lips as they watch him.

“You must be still, Laurent,” Auguste whispers to him so softly, so sweetly. “I thought you wanted to be good for me?”

He does! Of course he does, he wants to be perfect for Auguste, wants to do his brother proud, to show the councillors how good a pet he can be. He is ashamed, that he has not managed it. Despite how it everything has been so calculatingly stacked against him, Laurent is ashamed that he is so wanton and desperate, when his brother has asked for obedience.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers.

“None of that.” Auguste leans forward. He presses a kiss to Laurent’s nose. “Be good and still for me, and when we’re finished here I’ll give you a reward. Would you like that?”

Laurent blushes, his brother’s tone making him wish he could squirm, but he is determined to be good. He nods, forcing his hips to still.

“Good boy,” Auguste kisses his lips. “My perfect little pet.”

By the time the council is finally over, Laurent is past incoherence. To be left this long this unsatisfied, this  _ teased,  _ with a pleasure drug coursing through his veins, is unbearable. His skin is flushed and hot and clammy, his head spins, filled with fluff and clouds, empty but for the desperate need that buzzes under his skin like a swarm. The noises he makes sound distant in his own ears, they come and go unbidden, and there is nothing he can do to silence them. There is only Auguste, only the scent of him, the warmth of him, and the magnitude of his cock inside Laurent’s body.

Laurent doesn’t notice when Auguste ends the meeting. He doesn’t notice that Auguste fails to dismiss the councilmen. All he knows is that the second Auguste’s hand falls to his thigh, the second Auguste whispers in his ear, “good boy, take your pleasure,” Laurent is lost.

Laurent is moving before he can even think how to. Instinct drives him forward, guiding his hands to the arms of the chair, using them for leverage to lift his body up and down as far as his shaking muscles allow, his legs still held immobile in Auguste’s grip. Laurent rides Auguste’s cock like his life depends on it, grinding on it with every pass, nearly shouting as it prods against his swollen, aching pleasure spot, so sensitive it almost hurts. 

Up and down, faster and faster, arms burning from the strain. Laurent feels them shake, and knows they are about to fail him. The thought of it makes him cry out, desperate; realising he won’t be able to go on is worse than the thought of death. 

“Auguste,” he begs. His pace slows as his body refuses to go on. “Auguste,  _ please _ .” 

In a moment, his brothers hands are on his hips, holding tight, lifting him up and then slamming him down, the penetration suddenly deeper, making Laurent’s spine arch. Laurent cries and whines, so lost to the pleasure of being fucked on his brother’s cock that he has no words left. 

He leans against his brothers chest, giving his weight over to him, his aching arms reaching up to card through Auguste’s soft hair as he surrenders himself to his brother’s pleasure. Auguste is so strong, so powerful, he lifts Laurent up and down on his cock so effortlessly. It makes Laurent’s cock, hard and aching, slapping up against his belly with each one of Auguste’s thrusts, throb. 

Laurent feels his orgasm building powerfully, the pleasure drug heightening each moment of it past the point of what feels possible. He feels it behind his navel, curling and tightening, as thunderous as a storm as it begins to fan out, licking up his chest, out across his arms, down his thighs and to his toes. His eyes roll, vision fading, mouth falling slack and open and emitting pitiful sounds of desperation. He thinks he’ll die, it is so strong. He thinks it will tear his body apart. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Laurent hears whispered in his ear, words meant only for him. “Such a wanton little slut.”

His brother’s words are all it takes to send Laurent flying off the edge.

Without a single touch to his cock, Laurent comes, body jolting violently as the dam of pleasure breaks so hard, so fast, his consciousness nearly fades. He throws his head back, screaming into the silent council chamber and thrashing as he stains the front of his lacey silks white with his seed. Auguste fucks him through it, lifting him up and down mercilessly, giving him not a single moment of respite until he finds his own release, spilling deep inside Laurent’s body. 

Breathless, exhausted, satisfied and boneless, Laurent sinks into Auguste’s chest. He feels his brother’s cock softening inside him, and wriggles on Auguste’s lap a little, just to keep his cock inside. He turns into Auguste’s neck, breathes in his scent, eyes fluttering closed, so tired he could sleep right there. 

Distantly, Laurent hears Auguste dismiss the councilmen. He doesn’t watch them as they leave, content to bask in his brother’s warmth and encompassing presence. They have been gifted with enough of him already.

“Good boy,” Auguste says, pushing hair out of his eyes and kissing the crown of his head. “You were so good for me.”

Laurent makes a soft sound in pleasure, so pleased he could burst. Despite his orgasm, despite the aftershocks of pleasure that still shake through him, he feels his cock stir again. The pleasure drug is not done with him yet.

“We’ll have to do this again,” his brother says. “You were made for this.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second time i've written kinky fuckery going on during a council meeting, I think i have a fetish :')
> 
> [Like/reblog on tumblr!](http://exyking.tumblr.com/post/176932097153/laurentauguste-laurent-squirming-on-augustes)


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